


On Birthdays

by isuilde



Category: Free!
Genre: Domesticity, Growing Old Together, Happy Birthday Rin, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unrepentant Fluff, with a shot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 22:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Important things often happen on Rin's birthday.</p>
<p>(or, how Rin's birthdays go, a year to another.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Birthdays

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Matsuoka Rin! I’m glad I made it in time. /laughs Truthfully though, I’m not at all satisfied with how this turned out, so I apologize for throwing out a fic I don’t feel very comfortable with, which is why you might feel that my writing is a bit.. stilted (?) in this one. But it’s Rin’s birthday and I gotta have one out before focusing on the [MakoRin Valentine Fiesta](http://marine-abyss.tumblr.com/post/73296488195/makorin-valentine-fiesta-2014) and the [Iwatobi White Day](http://iwatobiwhiteday.tumblr.com/post/73289635205/iwatobi-white-day-2014-is-a) (which you guys absolutely should participate in, because they’re rad and very low-pressure, just saying!). 
> 
> Anyway, hopefully you guys would still find this enjoyable even just a bit. Happy Birthday, Matsuoka Rin, you perfect tsundere, you.

On his seventeenth birthday, Rin realizes that he’d fallen in love. 

They actually throw him a party—the Iwatobi and Samezuka guys, with Haruka, Nagisa and Nitori at the helm of it all. It’s not actually a surprise party, since it begins with Nagisa cheerfully announcing at the end of their joint practice: “Oh yeah, tomorrow is your birthday, isn’t it, Rin-chan? We should celebrate!” 

“Drop the ‘ _chan’_ ,” Rin warns, but it falls upon deaf ears considering Nitori is already piping up in excitement. “Yes, yes, let’s have a party!” 

“Oh, that’d be fun, let’s do that,” Mikoshiba says, because even if he’s technically not the Captain anymore (and neither is he a member of the swimming club anymore, what the fuck, Mikoshiba should just stop coming to every joint practice with Iwatobi and leave Rin’s sister alone), everyone still instinctively listens to him. “We can use the pool. I can get us permission to use the pool after sundown—“ 

“I’ve always wanted to try the grill while in the water,” Haruka speaks up solemnly, and everyone suddenly decides they should just go to the nearest yakiniku place to Samezuka and probably rent half the place (like they always do when Samezuka celebrates their victories) for the party. Haruka looks a little crestfallen at that, but Makoto taps him on the shoulder and says, “It’s okay, Haru, you can still bake the cake,” and his expression turns into one of sheer determination, it actually scares Rin a little. 

“Please tell him not to put any mackerel in my cake,” he tells Makoto, half desperately, and Makoto gives him a sheepish laugh that makes something in his chest skitters and dives down to his stomach, and Rin just stops and thinks, _what_ ,but he’s too exhausted to actually think, so he lets it slide, and shoves Makoto’s shoulder good-naturedly instead. 

So all of them meet up at the yakiniku place the next day, just after sundown, with Haruka bringing a blackforest cake peppered with little shark-shaped candies (where the fuck does the guy learn this stuff, Rin prefers not to know) that makes Rin’s teeth ache by just looking at it. There’s even a birthday banner, courtesy to Nagisa and Rei and Nitori and a bunch of other Samezuka boys, and Gou has a basket full of birthday presents that Rin silently eyes with thinly veiled excitement. Shut up, his inner-child will be forever dancing at the sight of presents, okay, judge him. 

“My treat!” Mikoshiba exclaims boisterously, puffing up even more when Gou’s eyes twinkle at him. Rin stomps down on the sharp anger spiking up at that by telling himself he’s going to order the most expensive meat available. Maybe even some kobe beef, just to make him cry at the price he’d have to pay. “For Matsuoka, we wish you all the best!” 

They sing happy birthday, Rin blows the candle, cuts the cake and feeds Gou the first slice, tentatively takes a bite of the cake (it’s surprisingly good, with the barest hint of sweetness, mostly just bitter dark chocolate, though Rin prefers spicy food)—the normal birthday party rituals, blah-blah-blah. And then Haruka and Rei commandeer the grill, and the meat keeps coming and everyone fights over who gets the last slice of beef, Rei’s pitiful protests about how the meat’s color is still not the beautiful brown it’s supposed to be dying amidst the war cries. 

It’s a good night. Rin snarks, grins, and laughs, and probably leaves permanent mental scars on some of the Samezuka boys who get in the way between him and meat. Nagisa steals something off Rin’s plate every time his attention strays to other things, Nitori keeps giving Rin something off his own plate every time he catches Nagisa’s thievery, Haruka intentionally pushes the best slices towards Rin and Rei bats off anyone’s chopsticks who dares to come near to said slices. 

Makoto sits next to him, making sure Haruka and Rei get their own share of meat, his right knee pressing on Rin’s, green eyes bright and his laughter even brighter, and his voice gently cutting into every argument over food and placating everyone as the corners of his eyes crinkle in earnest happiness. Makoto, who pauses at one point and leans back, gazing softly at the commotion around him before turning to Rin, offering a glass of water with a smile, and says, “Rin, you’re very much loved, aren’t you.” 

Rin stares at him for a long time, and thinks, _oh_. **_Oh_**. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, feels the fast staccato bumping inside his chest _thump-thump-thump_ and the warmth that blossoms from there. It’s a wonderful feeling, one that softens his eyes and tugs the corners of his lips up slightly. “Yeah. Thanks, Makoto.” 

He takes the glass of water, lets their fingers brush for a moment longer than necessary, and enjoys the sharp dive his heart takes at the simple contact. Makoto’s little finger catches on his thumb, just as Makoto smiles wider, at him and only him, and Rin tries to suppress a dopey grin threatening to break on his face. 

His skin tingles, and Rin wonders _how long have I been in love_ , and surprises himself when he finds he isn’t quite sure how to answer that. 

 

**\----o0o----**

On his nineteenth birthday, Rin breaks up with his boyfriend. 

“You tried,” Haruka tells him, eyes never leaving the chilly winter waves crashing on the white shore. Rin ducks his head, trailing his gaze along the footprints the two of them leave behind on the sand, washed away as the water kisses them. “I think it’s enough.” 

Rin laughs with a hint of bitterness. “I don’t think I ever tried hard enough.” 

Haruka shrugs. “It’s hard when you’ve always been in love with someone else.” He lifts a foot, bare and sandy, and cautiously chases the salt water rushing back to the ocean with his toe. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” 

“I don’t know,” Rin says. “I still think—maybe I could’ve tried harder. That it doesn’t have to end like this.” 

“You tried,” Haruka repeats. “You’ve made bad decisions, Rin, but this isn’t one of them.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” Haruka stands, his back straight and his feet firm upon the sand, eyes boring straight into Rin. “It’s time to stop hurting each other, Rin. Both you and Makoto, and Shige, too.” 

Rin exhales, rather shakily. He’s only nineteen, but breaking a relationship he’s been trying to work on for the last year hurts a lot more than he’d prepared himself to. He’s thankful that Haruka’s here, offering a solid wall to lean on when everything crashes down and Rin isn’t sure if he’s doing the right thing. “Sorry,” he tells Haruka, because Shige has become someone whom Haruka’s also fond of since he joined the swimming club two years ago. “Must have been awkward for you, to stand between me and Shige.” 

Haruka makes a nonchalant noise at the back of his throat. “I don’t think about it.” 

Of course. It’s Haruka, after all. “Shige—is he okay?” 

“He’s—“ Haruka takes a thoughtful second. “Relieved. Guess he’s known for a while, that you haven’t ever really looked at him.” 

It makes something in Rin’s stomach churn unpleasantly. “He’s good,” Rin mutters, kicking at the sand half-heartedly. “Most of the time, with him, I was happy. It was easy. He’s good.” 

Haruka nods in understanding. “He’s just not Makoto.” 

Rin’s breath catches in his throat, and it turns into a bark of bitter laugh. “If only I still have a chance at that.” 

Haruka looks at him. “Rin,” he says, careful and a bit challenging, “You’ll always have a chance, when it comes to Makoto.” 

But the fear remains. Fear of messing everything up, of trying to build something with Makoto and destroying everything they have in the end, and losing Makoto completely because Rin has faults, and not everyone wants to deal with them. Shige couldn’t deal with them, either, Rin thinks a bit hysterically, recalling the countless fights that lead to their break up. Who’s to say that Makoto would? 

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Makoto would. Just like he deals with Haruka’s tendency to strip over a certain amount of water in front of him, Makoto would deal with Rin’s tendency to be a jerk over things concerning feelings. He’d deal with Rin’s insecurity and assholery, Rin’s over-the-top gestures at times, and Rin’s endless dream. He’d deal with everything that is Rin because he’s Makoto, and that’s what Makoto does, that’s what Makoto has always done all these years, as one of Rin’s best friends, and Rin just— 

“I want,” he begins, because Haruka is Makoto’s best friend, too, and he deserves to know. “I want to give him a place to go home to.” 

Haruka’s lips twitch up ever so slightly, and he bumps his shoulder against Rin in silent support. 

Much later, when the sun’s gone over the horizon, painting the sky with layers of red and yellow and orange, Rin stands before Makoto and his bike, as the twins run across the shore to throw themselves at Haruka. Makoto smiles, soft and hopeful and vulnerable for some reason, and all Rin could think is _I’m sorry I made wrong decisions, I’m sorry I didn’t stop running away sooner, I’m sorry I had to hurt you and Shige again and again for a long time, I’m sorry—_  

“Rin,” Makoto says, his voice just above a whisper. “I think I have been in love with you for a very long time.” 

Rin looks up, and this is Makoto, who’s had enough of waiting and standing in front of Rin, knuckles white as he grips the bike handle tightly, laying everything about himself out in the open, so brave and raw and beautiful, and something in Rin’s _tears_. 

“Yeah,” he says, and chuckles, taking the first step forward to reach out and let his fingertips presses on Makoto’s chest. “Me, too.” 

Makoto’s smile is so brilliant, he thinks, even as he’s pulled into an embrace so warm and safe, with Makoto wishing him a happy birthday against his ear. 

 

**\-----o0o-----**

On his twenty-second birthday, Rin faces a wedding. 

“I don’t want this,” he murmurs, foot tapping anxiously against the pristine white floor of the chapel. He watches his mother fusses with the people from the flower arrangements, pointing here and there and bustling about like the wedding is not in another five hours. “Fuck, this is not happening, I swear—“ 

Rei side-glances at him for a second, before turning his attention back to the paper listing the wedding rundown in his hands. “Rin-san, if you were less of a man, I would have thought you are sulking.” 

Rin glares at him. “I do not sulk.” 

Rei hides a smile. “You’ve been threatening everyone who so much as glances at you.” 

“I need to think,” Rin snaps, fingers skittering at the edge of his white tuxedo, and he tells himself that they’re not shaking. “I’m not—this shouldn’t be happening, it’s too fast, three or four years of being in a relationship is too fast for a marriage, Rei, you can’t tell me otherwise.” 

Rei’s expression turns thoughtful. “Certainly, having been in a longer relationship myself, I can say that three or four years of being in a relationship is not at all a very long time—“ 

“Ha!” Rin crows victoriously. 

“—but it is not the only relevance to someone’s inclination to get married. My parents are still happily married; they met through an _omiai_ arranged by my grandfathers, and got married five months after.” 

Rin stares at him incredulously. “Whose side are you on?” 

Rei shrugs. “If you get cold feet now, Rin-san, Gou will kill you. I’m merely trying to prevent that.” 

Rin groans. “Fuck this,” he swears, and turns on his heels, startling Rei when their shoulders accidentally bump. “I’m going to find Nagisa and do something about this—sabotage the whole thing, or whatever evil plan he can come up with—“ 

“Rin-san—“ Rei calls, nearly stumbling as he tries to keep pace with Rin’s long strides. “That is the worst idea you’ve ever had—this is Nagisa you’re talking about!” 

“The only one with enough demonic power to stop a wedding.” 

“Wha—“ Rei splutters, sounding indignant at the implication that his boyfriend is apparently a demon. Rin snorts, because Rei is a living proof of the saying _love is blind_ , but then again, Nagisa is pretty much the same way too. Rin envies them, sometimes. “Rin-san, this is a terrible plan, let’s not do this, let’s just—find Gou and ask her?” 

“That’s not—“ going to work, Rin’s about to say, but the words are bitten back as he runs smack into an overly familiar figure, sending him stumble back two steps before strong hands catch his shoulders, steadying him back on his feet. Rin blinks, takes a second to enjoy the muscles hidden beneath off-white fabric, before letting his eyes trail up to find Makoto’s curious eyes on him. 

“Oh,” he says, rather dumbly. “Hey, Makoto.” 

“Makoto-senpai!” Rei halts next to Rin, looking very much relieved. “Please help me talk some common sense back into Rin-san. He’s going to ask for Nagisa-kun’s help.” 

Rin straightens, and Makoto releases his shoulder with a confused noice at the back of his throat. “Asking for Nagisa’s help? For what?” 

“I’m going to cancel the wedding,” Rin tells him, and Makoto’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“What?” 

Rei shakes his head. “This is not going to end well.” 

Rin whirls and rounds on him, feeling oddly betrayed at Rei’s refusal to help him. “This,” he grits out, “is my sister we’re talking about. I am not going to hand her over to any man— _on my birthday_ —not even Mikoshiba, even if he’s so great and good-looking and _whatever_ —Gou is only _twenty one_ , she hasn’t even graduated yet, this is way too fast!” 

Rei takes a step back, but Makoto keeps a hand on Rin’s shoulder, and when Rin turns to him, his eyes are dancing in amusement. What the hell. “You. You’re either going to help me with this, or we’re through forever.” 

Makoto chuckles. “That’s awful, Rin,” and Rin wants to kick himself, because there’s nothing worth the risk of his and Makoto’s relationship, and he opens his mouth to take it back, but Makoto beats him to it. “Alright, I’ll help you.” 

He blinks, stunned at the statement, as Rei gives Makoto a look of horror. “You… will?” 

Makoto grins. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He nods at Rei, and Rin knows that gesture, it’s Makoto’s _it’s-fine-I’ll-handle-this_ gesture, the one he’s perfected through years of being the eldest son and brother and a captain and just generally doing damage control. He takes Rin’s hand, slides his fingers along Rin’s own and laces them together in a way that always feels so intimate, Rin has to swallow every time. “Come on.” 

He follows the tug of Makoto’s hand, follows the staccato rhythm their feet make against the pristine white floor, follows the warmth of Makoto’s arm that brushes his own every other step. He doesn’t even think, he just moves, and later, much later, he’ll remember this moment and wonders about how much trust he actually puts in Makoto, because Rin doesn’t ever follow people—Rin pulls them along. That’s how the world always works for him. 

But for now, he follows Makoto, and they stop in front of a wooden door decorated with flowers, which Makoto knocks thrice and Gou’s voice calls out from behind the door, “Come in!” 

The door opens, and Rin’s whole world stops. 

That’s his baby sister, Rin thinks, rather numbly, as his eyes fall on the young woman blanketed in everything white, standing straight even with the many fabrics trying to drag her small frame down. The red strands spilling out of the crown-like headdress is a beautiful contrast against the stark white-ness of everything in the room, just as vibrant as the roses and red peonies in her hands. That’s his baby sister, who turns and moves so fluidly amidst the mass of the dress, whose rogue grin is still the Matsuoka-patented grin, with eyes so bright and sure of herself that Rin doesn’t remember why he was against this wedding in the first place. 

“Oniichan?” her tone is quizzical. “What is it?” 

Rin glances at Makoto, who throws him a knowing look, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

“Nothing,” Rin returns the grin on Gou’s face, this time more sure of himself. He’s ready, because Gou is ready. “Just checking on the bride.” 

 

**\-----o0o-----**

On his thirtieth birthday, Rin loses his mother. 

He wakes up to the incessant ringing of his cell phone and tumbles down the floor, feet tangling in blankets and pillows as he blindly gropes around for the device. Dimly, he hears Makoto’s sleepy voice protesting from the other side of the bed, but that could wait, because he knows it’s the hospital, and the constant fear settles down in his stomach, making it churn. 

He mumbles an incomprehensible hello to the voice of a male, precise and matter-of-fact and somehow managing to sound sterile, asking him to sit down and stating her mother’s death, cause and time, and that they’ve tried their best, and that they’re sorry, and— 

The next thing Rin is aware of, he’s listening to himself breathing short and fast, like he’s hyperventilating, and he doesn’t have his phone in his hand. Makoto’s arms are around him, solid and strong, and Makoto’s voice is talking into his phone. “Yes, we’ll be there in thirty minutes. Thank you for calling—please tell Mikoshiba-san to take care of Gou-chan in the meantime. Yes. Thank you, doctor.” 

Rin makes a grab for the phone, and a sound like a painful sob is ripped off his throat when Makoto puts it away. “Get off—Makoto, I’ve got to—“ 

“Rin,” Makoto says, but his mind is whirling a mile a minute, and he can’t understand what Makoto is saying, and he’s got to call his mother, he’s got to make sure she’s alright, he’s got to make plans to come home to her soon, and maybe stay awhile this time, even if he’s got a tournament coming up. “Rin, breathe.” 

“I—“ he gasps, and thinks, _but Mother won’t ever answer again, but that’s okay, I’ll leave a message, she loves our messages, I’ll leave her tons, that’ll cheer her up, she’s not going to leave, she’s—_  

Makoto kisses him, a soft, tentative press of his lips, and Rin is so confused, so numb of everything, even as Makoto pulls him closer and he’s practically on Makoto’s lap, and he thinks of his mother, thinks of the first time his mother finds him and Makoto in this position, thinks of the secretive tug of her lips when she closes the door, thinks of the wrinkled eyes and lips and cheeks and tissue-thin skin underneath his lips when he kisses her forehead, leaving her with a promise that he’d be back tomorrow morning and that Gou will stay with her at the hospital tonight, thinks of her fluttering, tired eyes, smiling even as she tells him, _happy early birthday, sweetheart_. 

His breath hitches, the first sign of a sob, and Makoto holds him tighter. 

“I’m sorry, Rin,” he whispers into Rin’s neck, and Rin hates that, because it’s not Makoto’s fault, it’s not about Makoto, it’s never about Makoto when it comes to this. Except it was Makoto who convinced him to go home tonight, who convinced him that he needs proper rest since he’s stayed over at the hospital for three nights in a row, and tomorrow is Rin’s birthday anyway, so won’t he come home with Makoto, just tonight? 

“I hate you,” Rin forces out, but his fingers are gripping Makoto’s shoulders like a lifeline, digging into bare skin, making crescent marks and drawing slivers of blood. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, Makoto, I hate you—“ 

Makoto makes a painful noise. “I’m sorry.” 

“I hate you,” Rin sobs, buries his face into Makoto’s hair and holds on. “I hate you so much.” 

He really doesn’t, and he kisses Makoto to show him that, but he needs to say it anyway because it’s so much easier to forget about the pain when he can blame someone. Makoto doesn’t say anything, just murmurs apologies that are not supposed to be his, accepting all the pain Rin forces on him, and Rin cries unabashedly, curling into Makoto’s arms like a child, remembers his mother, remembers her smile, remembers her warmth. 

_He’s good for you, Rin,_ her mother once said. _You seem good for him, too. I’m glad._  

 

**\-----o0o-----**

On his thirty-sixth birthday, Rin holds a baby in his arms. 

It’s tiny, just barely bigger than the size of his biceps. Rin stares at those scrunched up eyes, the soft, paper-thin  skin under his thumb, those tiny lips and tiny, pink tongue peeking between them, those fragile limbs flailing slightly whenever Rin moves. It’s so tiny, and Mikoshiba laughs when he voices the thought out loud. 

“She’ll be someone who is bigger than this world,” the proud father tells Rin, teeth flashing in a grin Rin has been so familiar with since high school. Then a fuzzy slipper hits Mikoshiba on the head, making him yelp, and Rin instinctively step away from the war zone because he has something _frail_ in his hands, how is there even this tiny being inside his sister’s belly for months— 

“You’re all so loud,” Gou grumbles, one hand already raised, holding her remaining slipper. “I want to sleep.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Mikoshiba and Rin reply automatically. They have learned not to contradict Gou in the nine months (it’s actually eight months and twenty two days, Rin counted like a good brother should, okay) of her pregnancy, because the wrath she could bring even rivals what Nagisa is capable of. 

The door opens, and Makoto’s head pops in. “Can I?” he asks, and apparently takes Mikoshiba’s beaming face as an invitation to come in. He closes the door behind him as he steps in, directing a smile at Gou when she gives him a small wave. “Hey, Gou-chan. Still exhausted?” 

“I can still sleep for another three days,” Gou moans, but there’s a smile tugging on her face now. “Never knew delivering a baby is so exhausting.” 

Makoto chuckles, already gravitating so naturally towards where Rin stands. “That’s what my mom said when the twins were born. Speaking of which, they’re out in the hall with Haruka and the others, so we’ll be taking turns going in, if that’s okay with you?” He stops, shoulders inches from Rin’s own, and bends down to take a good look at the tiny being in Rin’s arms. The tip of his forefinger traces the baby’s cheek softly, and Rin watches her nose scrunches up. “Hi, there.” 

“If Nagisa promised to be good,” Gou says, and Makoto flashes her a grin. 

“You sound a lot like a mother already, Gou-chan.” 

Gou visibly bites down on a smile. “Thanks, senpai. I practiced a lot.” 

A hand settles on the small of Rin’s back, and Rin inches closer to let Makoto have a better view. The taller man is making cooing noises at the baby now, what a dork. 

“I’m really glad she’s born,” Makoto murmurs, knocking the side of his head against Rin, and Rin remembers years and years ago, when a doctor carefully told Gou that she might not be able to carry a baby, that if they would still like to try then they should thread very carefully, that it’s possible, but it’d cost them lots of treatments, lots of planning with various doctors. 

But it’s all worth it, in the end. She’s tiny, and so frail Rin’s kind of scared he’ll accidentally crush her in his arms, but she’s here. His first niece, born just a day before his birthday, after all the careful planning and treatment, through Gou’s despair and Mikoshiba’s fierce determination to keep going with it. 

“Beautiful, isn’t she,” Rin says, and he doesn’t even care about the embarrassingly soft note in his voice; basically everyone knows he’s a romantic anyway, even though Rin would rather chew his own face before admitting that fact out loud. 

Makoto hums against his ear in agreement. “You’re finally an uncle now, huh, Rin.” 

That sounds nice. He imagines the tiny being in his arms, growing up with chubby cheeks and twintails, bright red eyes beaming at him and calling him _Uncle Rin, let’s go for a swim_! 

“That sounds old,” he says instead, and Makoto just chuckles because Rin probably radiates happiness now, and the fact that he doesn’t care about what anyone else think about it says something. “I’m only thirty five.” 

“Thirty six today,” Makoto reminds him. 

Rin glares at him half-heartedly. “And you have to remind me, do you.” 

“And as a birthday present from the two of us,” Gou says, giving Mikoshiba a stern look when he starts giving her his best puppy face. “We’ll let you name her, Oniichan.” 

Rin starts. “You’re kidding,” he says, actually sounding awed. “She’s your firstborn, Gou.” And probably her only baby, considering her age now. He doesn’t want to take that away from her. 

But his sister’s gaze softens. “I want you to,” she says, earnest and honest. “So that she’ll always be a part of your life, too, Oniichan.” 

Of course she will. Even without Rin naming her, he knows she’ll be a part of his life straight away. But Gou wants him to, and the frail weight in his arms feels like it’s waiting, and Rin looks up at Mikoshiba, who grins and nods, and at Makoto, who smiles and simply squeezes his shoulders. 

So he says, “Misaki,” thinking of the characters for _beauty_ and _bloom_ , and feels the pride filling his chest when Gou and Mikoshiba look at each other with approving smiles on their faces. 

“Hi, Misaki,” Makoto murmurs, soft and bright, with a finger tracing the contour of her face. “Nice to meet you.” 

Rin likes to think the corners of Misaki’s lips twitch up in a trademark Matsuoka grin, even though she’s still way too small to do it properly anyway. 

 

**\-----o0o-----**

On his fiftieth birthday, Rin proposes. 

As a romantic, Rin have big dreams. He’s dreamt of golden rings and heartfelt vows, of clear sky peppered with stars as they dance to the rhythm of the universe, of going down on a knee and presenting a ring and listening to a happy _yes_ , of kisses and hugs and sex afterwards. 

But somewhere along the way, Rin’s forgotten all about it. Somewhere along the way, between the two of them moving into an apartment together and going down on his knees before Makoto to do all sorts of things, between waking up in the mornings either to Makoto’s soft snore or Makoto’s voice singing in broken English from the kitchen and coming home to someone who would always welcome him home, Rin’s forgotten all about the dreams, the grand gestures and novel experience he used to actively seek. 

He probably wouldn’t even remember that the two of them are still not married if it isn’t for Haruka bringing over a questionnaire for him, for a social research that focuses on unmarried couples living together. 

“What’s this,” he deadpans, when Haruka hands him the questionnaire. 

“Fill these,” Haruka tells him, and wanders over towards the bathroom, presumably to start filling the bathtub and spends the day away there before his wife comes to pick him up. Makoto passes him by, curiously eyeing the questionnaire in Rin’s hand before his eyes come alight with recognition. 

“Isn’t that for Natsume-kun’s research project?” Oh, so it’s for Haruka’s youngest son, currently slaving away doing his last year in university. The kid’s so spoiled, he should’ve come over and asked Rin himself instead of sending his father. “I filled that just yesterday. I think it’s for his final assignment, or something.” 

Rin lets his gaze runs over the questionnaire’s title: _A Research on Power Relations of Unmarried Couple Living Together_ , and that’s exactly when he suddenly remembers, oh yeah, he’s not married yet. 

Well, that’s kind of news to him, actually. Clearly, something needs to change. 

“Hey, Makoto,” he begins, not sure why he even starts now when it probably doesn’t even matter anymore to anyone, but wanting to do something about it anyway. He takes a deep breath when Makoto turns to him with attentive green eyes, and Rin loses his breath for a second, what the fuck, his heart’s already starting a marathon, thumping hard inside his chest like it’s trying to burst out. 

It doesn’t even matter anymore, at this point. They’re practically married anyway—they’ve been together for decades and living together for the better half of it, they’ve been through everything together that Rin doesn’t even have any reason to be insecure anymore because Makoto knows him completely the way he does Makoto, too. This is ridiculous, and he probably shouldn’t even bring this up, but Makoto’s fingers are bare and Rin thinks of a ring—his ring—adorning one of them, and he just wants. 

He wants, so badly.  And perhaps it’s silly for a man turning fifty today, to want so badly, but Rin likes to think his soul is forever twenty. 

“For my present this year,” he’s so proud that he manages to voice it in a confident tone, even and steady. “I want you to marry me.” 

And Rin watches, fascinated, as Makoto’s eyes widen, and a myriad of emotions flash across his face—shock, disbelief, uncertainty, fear, hope, tentative happiness—and then Makoto starts laughing and doesn’t stop. 

He laughs, hard, bending down and folding himself forward, lowering himself onto a crouch and shakes. 

Rin swallows, then rushes forward, falling on his knees to fold himself around Makoto’s figure, feeling the shakes of Makoto’s shoulder, the hitches in his breaths, the tremor in his laughter. It takes him a moment to realize that Makoto is crying, too, for reasons Rin doesn’t quite understand, but the way Makoto grips his arms back like he’s trying to keep Rin there forever makes him think that the crying, maybe, is a good thing. 

Maybe. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, closes his eyes and buries his face into the brown strands under his chin. “Let’s get our rings together. We’ll tell the others—Haru first, he’s here anyway—and then we’ll make the invitations ourselves. By hands? If you want.” He swallows again, throat suddenly constricting when he hears Makoto laughing again. “Let’s make it small and private, yeah? You’ll like it. We’ll make sure there’s nothing resembling a puddle of water around, so you won’t have to worry about your best man stripping off in the middle of our vow—“ 

“Rin—“ Makoto splutters, voice wet and cracking with amusement. “You realize we’ve practically been married—“ 

“For decades, yeah.” And Makoto’s arms only tighten at the words. “I used to want proper proposals, with the whole going down on one knee and all, maybe after a candlelight dinner or something, but I’m fifty, Makoto, and it sounds ridiculous at my age.” 

“It’s not,” Makoto chuckles. “And why now, anyway?” 

Rin pauses for a moment, and then admits. “I might have forgotten that we’re not actually married, at some point in my life.” 

“Oh my god,” Makoto’s muffled laughter is a beautiful sound. “You are incorrigible. And yeah—yeah, I’ll marry you a thousand times.” 

“Sap,” Rin accuses, but relief bursts out and envelopes him with warmth, and he isn’t sure he’s ever been this happy before. 

Days later, Makoto actually does propose to him properly, exactly the way Rin had dreamt it once: a candlelight dinner and a walk in the park, with the clear sky peppered with stars above them as they dance to a beat unheard, going down on one knee with a ring in his hands and asking the deciding question: will-you-marry-me? 

Rin laughs until he can’t breathe, and chooses to answer by kissing Makoto senseless. 

 

**\-----o0o-----**

On his sixty-ninth birthday, Rin wakes up to Makoto’s sleepy smile, wrinkled and beautiful and still the kindest and warmest of all, and thinks _aw, fuck, I am so ruined_. 

But as he rises to catch Makoto’s lips, waiting for them to part in a breathless chuckle against his own, tasting _Makoto_ under the awful morning breath he’d gotten too used to after decades and decades, feeling Makoto’s fingers trailing up his neck and slipping through his hair, he smiles to himself and decides that he’s absolutely fine with it. 

 

**\-----o0o-----**

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, yeah, Misaki's name is ripped straight off Yata Misaki of Project K, because I'm too lazy to look up various kanji and construct a name. Sorry about that.


End file.
